Gold Coast Bulletin journalist’s 24-hour epic in tourism hub Surfers Paradise ahead of Schoolies
EVER wondered what 24 hours in the Gold Coast’s tourism heart looks like? Here you go.
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SURFERS Paradise never really sleeps. Neither did I for a 24-hour journey into the heart of the Glitter Strip two weeks ago.
The idea was to take the pulse of paradise, where visitor numbers are up and schoolies are soon to arrive. I started on Friday afternoon and went through the night until 3pm on Saturday. It wasn’t hard to stay awake, Surfers is a lot of fun. And I met a lot of characters: hardworking business owners and staff, excited visitors, party people, jaded locals and the odd weirdo.
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3.45pm, Friday
Surfers Paradise Meter Maids Celine Bell and Sophie Begbie, both 17, have spent six hours traipsing around feeding parking meters to save motorists from fines — and selling merchandise on the side. They’re not sure how much they’ve made but Sophie says she cleared $680 between two people on Friday a week back. The pair, standing at the top of Cavill Mall in sparkly gold bikinis, admit they’re knackered and their feet are blistered by four-inch heels. Celine, on just her second shift, now has a nasty cut on her foot. Sophie, who commutes from Brisbane, says: “I love Surfers, I love the Gold Coast, I love the beach ... I want to live here.” She adds: “We had some drunk guys today at 10am. I think it was a footy team or soccer team. I was like ‘You’re drunk already?!’. But it didn’t really surprise me — it’s Surfers, everyone pretty much gets drunk here any time they want.”
4.30pm:
Smiling Brazilian tourists (above, from left) Luisa Galvao, 27, Ana Bartolome, 28, and Camila Soluri, 23, have just had a surf lesson with Go Ride a Wave. It’s their third day in Surfers, part of a month-long holiday around Australia. They’re enjoying Surfers but admit it hasn’t lived up to expectation: “I thought it was going to be like Miami in the States — I’m disappointed. Places like Burleigh, Palm Beach are way better but it’s the best place to stay,” Camila says. They reckon Surfers is too “commercial”. Ana: “It’s the famous place, but it’s a lot more commercial than we thought.” Camila: “It’s not Surfers Paradise — it’s Shoppers Paradise. Why do you call it Surfers Paradise?” They say the bar crawl touts around Surfers are “annoying”. Despite this, they admit signing up for one. Over-all, Luisa says they’re enjoying themselves: “We’re having fun, we’re laughing since the day we got here.” They all say the location, shopping and transport — particularly the tram — are great. But asked what they’d tell friends about Surfers, Luisa says: “Go to Byron Bay.”
5pm:
Carefree Chinese sisters Jin Jin Wang, 11, and Xiao Xiao, 10, (right) slide down Cavill Mall and through beachfront markets on skateboards. Home is a nearby Hilton serviced apartment, Cavill Mall is their backyard. For these kids and mum Bobo Shi, a personal trainer for Adidas, Surfers really is paradise. Bobo, 35, and partner Yun Wang have been here for four months and plan to move permanently from China. “We really love the ocean and beach,” Bobo says. “Every time I look at the ocean I think maybe in a previous life I was a mermaid.” Yun adds: “The only thing I don’t like is it’s noisy, but you get used to it. There are documentaries on TV about how crazy Surfers is at night but I don’t think it’s the truth. It’s safe. It’s quite different from Melbourne and Sydney.” Jin Jin, who skateboards to Surfers Paradise Primary School every day, hopes they can stay: “There is air pollution in Shanghai, you can’t see anything far away from you. We have a beach beside our apartment — it’s beautiful.”
6pm:
Helm Bar’s balcony overlooking the river is packed. It’s the best place to watch the sunset with a cold one. Among the crowd are English boys Sam Morton and James Barker, both 25, who’ve just moved house to Broadbeach after 10 months in Surfers. Sam: “If you’re going to a nightclub I’d go to Broadbeach. But we did Surfers big time [while here], and we never had any trouble.”
7pm:
Blair Lester, in his 50s, moved four months ago from Melbourne to Surfers and a Circle on Cavill apartment with his wife. He’s taking golden retriever Josh for a walk. “The kids have left home, we’ve been coming here for years and we thought we’d come see how we liked it. It’s a bit noisy on weekends but we have a view of the beach, a view of the river. I think we’ll stay.”
7.15pm:
Down Cavill Mall, busker Joel Fenton (above) is balancing atop a ladder and juggling when he spies people going: “Hey — why are you leaving? You forgot to pay!” he jokes ... sort of. He plans to pack up for a few weeks when Schoolies is in full swing: “You can’t do what I do during Schoolies ... 14,000 amped-up schoolies, it’s mental — 6pm on a Tuesday during Schoolies is like 10.30pm on a Friday night — drunkenness, loudness, testosterone ... even if I managed to finish a show, there’s no money at the end. They’ve already it spent it on two-minute noodles.”
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7.36pm:
Cameron Guy (above), 42, is doing a different kind of performance at the beach end of Cavill Mall via microphone: “At some stage of our lives we’re all sinners regardless of whether we stay an unbeliever or accept Jesus Christ into our lives ...” Cameron preaches on Friday and Saturday nights. “I had two lesbians come up once and say ‘Does God hate me because I’m a lesbian?’. I said ‘God doesn’t hate you but he hates the sin’.”
7.50pm:
Heaps of people have put a lot of effort into Halloween costumes, including Courtney ‘Zombie Bride’ Vitler, 22, (above, left) and Rachel ‘Bloody nurse’ Thornton, 21. They’re ready to hit the clubs, having had a few midori and vodkas at home. They reckon Surfers has a bad reputation for drink-spiking, with Rachel saying her cousin almost died after someone slipped her Fantasy. Courtney reckons it happened to her sister recently too. But they’re not concerned. Their plan, Courtney says, is: “Get drunk and whatever time we feel like s***, go home.”
8pm:
The Meter Maids have changed shift. Brie Smith, 20, and Jess Heron, 19, are now on duty. “Our feet are a bit sore”, Brie says, as they trot off in their high heels.
8.30pm:
I meet Surfers veteran ‘The Oracle’ at Hard Rock Café to fuel up on chicken fajitas. Professional, late 30s, and with a boyish enthusiasm for almost everything about Surfers, The Oracle moved to the middle of it 10 years ago and he’s never left. “I was 25 — I’d had enough of Sydney, working my a*** off in the rat race. I moved into a highrise, loved it. I was on about level 38, oh mate — the parties, I can’t even tell you. I’d swim in the ocean every day, you could go out Tuesday night — Tuesday! It was ladies night. We’d follow the bar tours — people from all over the place, Canada, Sweden. You’d just watch it come out of Melbas like a train. And it’s still like that. I love it. If I moved somewhere else I’d get depressed.”
9.10pm:
Down nightclub strip Orchid Ave, five Sydney girls here for the weekend to celebrate Brittany Oxton’s (above, centre) 23rd birthday are bar crawling. “We come here lots,” Brittany says. “It’s good to party. And it’s a lot cheaper as well.” Just a block along is a guy in his early 20s, smashing a slice of pizza — he says last night he lost $3000 at Jupiters playing blackjack and later had to ring his “driver” to get him from the gutter down Orchid Ave. He lost his wallet and broke his mobile phone. He was back in Surfers by 10am today, drinking at Waxy’s for three hours before returning to Jupiters. Now’s he’s back, ready to do it all again. “I know most of the bar managers — I’m going to go and get some bottle service somewhere.”
11.15pm:
At Black Coffee Lyrics, lively groups hunched around tables are enjoying cocktails and craft beer. I’m joined by a local guy in his 20s who I’ll call Wingman. A girl at a table across from us smiles at me and I go over and sit down. “Let me ask you a question,” she says. “When you sleep with someone, do you use a condom every time? And if you were going to have a threesome with us (she motions to the girl beside her), would you use one condom or two?” She’s Swedish. Her friend is Norwegian. It turns out they’re planning a threesome with a Brazilian guy at their table. They’ve already decided this — they’re just discussing logistics while drinking rounds of Dita Von Teese’s Jugs off the cocktail menu. The girls head out for a cigarette and I ask the Brazilian if they really are having a threesome. “We’re definitely going to — I’m paying for all the drinks!” he says excitedly. “The Norwegian loves threesomes and the Swedish girl loves Brazilian guys, so ...” He looks at the drinks menu, the Dita Von Teese Jugs are $30 a pop: “Ah f***ing b****es ... they ordered the most expensive one,” he says, laughing.
1am:
Back on Orchid Ave, birthday girl Brittany and her friends are leaving Vanity. “We’ve had a fabulous night, did some dancing, had some shots, they were free,” she says. “I don’t want to boast but we’re a nice-looking group — the staff took us to the bar and got us drinks.” Now it’s time for a kebab and sleep, Brittany says, admitting to “a big night last night”. Her friend says: “We got loose but not crazy. There’s a water fountain back at our hotel — we were actually swimming in it.”
1.10am:
The Oracle calls it a night but gives some parting advice: “I feel safer here than anywhere. I’ve seen heaps of fights, and the cops are there straightaway. In Sydney you have to watch your back, there’s junkies coming up to you. You would think they would be here too but they’re not. Here’s there’s just a lot of drunken idiots — so do keep your wits about you.”
1.15am:
At the kebab stand, a guy walking past clocks Brittany: “Hey! Heeaaayy! You look pretty. Can I buy you a drink?” Brittany: “No.” The guy: “Can I buy you … a kebab!?” Brittany: “I’m quite capable of getting my own kebab, thank you.” Wingman is in a fit of laughter: “Oh man ... ‘Can I buy you a kebab?’ ... that’s awful.”
1.15am-1.30am:
Bouncers eject three guys from Orchid Ave bars in quick succession and give them to nearby police. On all three occasions the police get the person to sit on a bench and watch them for five minutes to see what sort of state they are in — and once they’re satisfied, they let them go. One of the officers tells me they’re dealing with minor boozy incidents like this every 10 minutes and it’s quite busy for a Friday. Another says: “To be honest, it’s the same sort of stuff you’d deal with at a country pub. But because it’s Surfers, it gets more attention. I personally don’t think it’s that bad.”
1.45am:
At gay-friendly bar Escape, a woman is at a table with three guys, including one who has no top on. The guy beside him starts sucking his nipples. The third guy exclaims: “Up the bum, no babies!”. The woman says Escape is one place in Surfers she likes: “You can be yourself, it doesn’t have that egotistical, testosterone male energy where it’s aggressive.” You don’t think Surfers is safe? “I know it’s not. This is a shiny place for shady people. If I could leave I would but my baby’s father lives here. The last guy I was involved with got murdered … slept with the wrong woman. After that, my bro, not my real brother but I call him my bro, got shot eight times at The Spit (he lived). It’s just a f***ing s**t town. People come and go ... no one is real.”
2.17am:
A 47-year-old security guard down Cavill Mall is taking a coffee break from a 7pm-4am nightclub shift. The seven-year veteran has seen it all — and is seemingly over it. “It’s a pain in the a***, man. I want to go home. I’ve been here doing this forever.” He continues: “Go to Sydney, same, Melbourne, same, Brisbane, same. It’s just Australia. F***wits everywhere.” What about schoolies? “Can’t wait for schoolies, they’re good. I never have problems. You can deal with them, they respect you. People my age? You have to kill them.”
2.20am:
At strip club Players, a friendly staffer bowls up and tries to interest me in “wet pussy”. She tells me it’s a drink with vodka, peach schnapps and cranberry. She’s also selling Fruit Tingles. “Put them together and you get a Tingly Pussy,” she chirrups. The place is packed. On the way in, we’re told it’s super busy — “guys are loving the titties tonight” — and the girls are booked solid for lapdances. Wingman and I have a quiet drink and decide to try one more bar. The 3am lockdown looms and wherever we are by then is where we’ll have to stay until close. As we exit Wingman gets profound: “Why do people go to strip clubs, pay for lap dances? Nothing’s better than being with a girl who really wants you. If you don’t understand that, you don’t understand life.”
2.50am:
We need a pub. Avenue it is, an institution. There is sport on giant TVs, Guns ‘n’ Roses blaring out of the speakers. We plonk ourselves down next to two friendly girls and while away an hour chatting happily before Wingman peels off in a pedicab.
4am:
Pedicab driver Renaud Poggi (above, right), 22, of France, who works until 6am, says: “Girl passengers sometimes will put a finger up my a***, what should I do? Every night I get slapped on the a***. Last night two girls took off my shirt, pulled down my underwear. But they pay. It’s just 4am — go anywhere in the world at that time, you see that.”
5am:
In an Orchid Ave carpark building, Chrystal, 18, and Sarah, 19, who have just finished waitressing at a strip club, sit on the back of a ute. They’re awaiting Chrystal’s boyfriend Daniel Wilson (above, right), a VIP host at Sin City, before the hour-long drive back to Jimboomba. How was their night? Chrystal: “You’re asking me how my night was? Working in a strip club in Surfers Paradise? S**t, like every other night … it’s not that bad I guess, it’s just customers do my head in.” When I ask Daniel what a VIP host does, Chrystal says: “Tunes b**ches. It’s his job to hit on girls.” Daniel, a Gold Coaster who plans to join the army, says triumphantly: “Well, that’s how I got Chrystal.”
5.15am:
The sun is coming up. Sydney visitor Brendan Lancaster and his partner are walking down Cavill Mall after a night out. The visiting parents of young twins say they’ve had a great night out, a rarity given parenthood. “You’re pretty lucky to live here,” he says. “If this was Sydney, there’d be fights everywhere. This is a bloody good town,” he says.
5.30am:
A hearty group of local men who call themselves JLTD — Just Living the Dream — emerge from the ocean. Their daily 5am dip is a 15-year tradition. JLTD lifer Barry Mallet says: “We turn up every morning for a surf, have a coffee, go to work.” Another veteran trawling the beach is lifeguard Peter Anderson. He starts at 4.30am, has done for 10 years: “Mainly, as a preventive measure, to stop inebriated people swimming.” The 77-year-old adds: “I get to watch the sun come up, it’s a high. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing.”
10am:
At the $10 all-you-can-eat surf club breakfast, I sit across from four listless lads who look like they’ve had no sleep but lots to drink. One, with a plate piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and a sausage, exclaims: “Last night … I don’t know if I’ve ever been that drunk.” He has a bite of sausage and that’s it. A guy walks in off his dial and is rude to a waitress. He leaves and glares at a passing girl in aviator sunglasses: “What’s your name?” She tells him to get lost. He shouts: “Lose the aviators! They’re for pilots!” She replies: “Lose the ugly pants.” To no one in particular he says: “Yeah … get among it,” and stumbles off.
12.10pm:
David Buncombe, known locally for wearing women’s clothing, is on his favourite Cavill Ave bench watching the world go by. He’s in a skirt and orange singlet, waiting for Kylie Minogue, believing it’s God’s will that he’ll marry her. “I can’t do anything to make it happen, I just have to let the heavenly father make it happen — my union with Kylie.”
2pm:
Sunbathing at the beach are country girls — sisters Kate, 18, (right) and Kelly Veal, 15. They’ve driven 90 minutes to spend the day in the sun: “It’s just so relaxing,” Kate says. Kelly adds: “And it’s getting away from our life. There’s nothing around where we live that we can really do.”
POSTSCRIPT:
I settle into pancakes at Charlie’s. Cavill Mall is bustling, you can feel the energy. Charlie’s owner Todd Downie, whose family has had the business since 1981, sits down, looks out at the busy crowd and says: “I love Surfers Paradise.”
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